


the memory room

by narada-talis (sarensen)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Keith saves Shiro, M/M, Memory Alteration, Post-Season/Series 02, Reunions, emotional connections, forgotten shiro, temporary canon death, wild hunt AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-13 10:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarensen/pseuds/narada-talis
Summary: When Shiro dies in the final fight against Zarkon, he doesn’t just disappear from the Black Lion, but gets ripped from reality entirely, and from the memory of all his friends.Keith continues leading Voltron as the Black Paladin, a role he believes he’s had since the beginning. But his connection to Shiro is so strong he keeps feeling like something important is missing, like there’s something vital he needs to remember, but can’t. The only clues he has are a door only he can see and a piece of paper he doesn’t recognize, with three words written on it in his own hand -“patience yields focus”.He will save Shiro again. He’ll tear reality itself apart if he has to.But he needs to remember him first.





	1. Chapter 1

Waking up is like swimming through thick black water. The distant surface is nothing more than distorted rippling light and muffled sound. Afterimages dance on the backs of his lids; Voltron's blazing sword, arcs of searing purple lightning, and the white flash of quintessence flaring as the Lions broke apart.

Slowly and with effort, Keith opens his eyes. Before him is the dark hulk of Zarkon's dead ship, listing to one side lifelessly and surrounded by an asteroid field of metal splinters and debris that glows with radiation.

Drifting between it all are the Lions, hulls cold and eyes dark. Inside Keith's cockpit, the emergency light is flashing. Blood trickles from his shoulder. The Lions had tried to shield their Paladins from the violence of Voltron's sundering as best they could, but human bodies are small and more fragile than the brutality of war can forgive.

Lance's tinny voice crackles with static in his ear. "Did we do it?"

Beside him, the Yellow Lion unfolds and turns to survey the detritus. Hunk sounds exhausted. "Is it over?"

"I have Allura and Kolivan," Coran announces as the Castle of Lions drops into view before them, "We need to go!"

One by one, the other Lions light up and unfurl, flying ponderously toward the Castleship's hangar. All except one.

Shiro isn't moving.

Keith gasps. "Shiro!"

There's no reply. Urgency spikes through him.

Pidge shouts, "We need to tow him back onto the ship!"

Keith follows the Blue Lion in his periphery as they dive toward Shiro, weaving through fragments of exploded hull and dead Galra fighters. The space around them is chaos borne from the remnants of war, but Keith hardly notices any of it. His vision is filled with the Black Lion, hanging motionless in the center of it all.

_Please be okay._

Red's claws sink into the cracks between the Black Lion's armor with a clang that vibrates through Keith's spine. The sound seems too loud, too close. It makes his ears ring and his head pound. He's unable to stop the soft gasp that escapes his throat. For a moment, it's as if the world buckles. A wave of distortion ripples out from the Black Lion, twisting and bending the light around them.

Keith squeezes his eyes shut.

When he opens them, the world has settled back in around him and he's halfway across the debris field with Pidge, hauling the dead weight of the Black Lion behind them. Galra fighters start flaring back to life as they pass, first one, then five, then a hundred, then an uncountable wave dogging their heels.

His heart pounds as they narrowly dodge purple lasers. They're not fast enough, not nimble enough, not with their cargo dragging them down. The Castleship hangs poised on the edge of escape, doors open and inviting.

They scrape onto the ship by a prayer, each Lion slotting into its hangar. Allura opens the teludav and guides the Castleship into the stomach-dropping sensation of freefall that waits beyond. The stars around them streak into long silver lines. They leave Zarkon and the fighters and the red-purple nebula behind and slip into the silence of lightspeed.

Keith tumbles out of his seat before his Lion fully sets down. He shoves open the doors and slip-slides down the ramp, already running before he hits the ground.

"Shiro!"

The Castleship's winding corridors seem endless, and his body is mentally and physically spent from the battle. Before long his lungs are burning and his muscles aching but it doesn't matter - nothing matters except getting to the Black Lion's hangar.

"_Shiro!_"

The other Paladins' join him, footsteps pounding down the last corridor. They skid around the corner and into Black's hangar where she lies on her side, limp and inert.

Keith needs to get to it. He needs to get inside the Black Lion.

He dashes up the gangway, chest heaving, and slams his fist on the keypad. The door whooshes open and he stumbles inside, carried by the momentum of his haste.

The cockpit is empty. Quiet and black.

Keith stops abruptly. He blinks.

The quiet hum of the Castleship settles around him like a blanket covering his mind. The urgent need to get to the Black Lion still simmers just beneath the surface, but it's duller now, like a song heard through the walls from another room.

Why was he running?

There must be something vital he needs to do here, some important reason for him to have come. But like walking into a room and suddenly forgetting why, he isn't entirely sure what that is.

He looks around the cockpit of his Lion, trailing one black-and-white vambrace over the pilot's seat.

Behind him, the other Paladins pile up in the doorway.

Hunk rests his hands on his knees. "You okay, Keith?" he asks between heavy breaths.

Keith frowns a little, chewing on his lip. "Yeah."

"What were you shouting about all the way here?" Pidge asks, poking her head inside to look around, "I think they heard you all the way to Olkarion."

"I..." Keith trails off, blinking. "... don't remember."

Lance says. "It sounded like you were saying 'Shiro'."

Something tugs at the back of Keith's mind.

"What's a Shiro?" Allura asks.

"Huh." Keith shakes his head. "I'm not sure."

He turns to them, then pauses. "Lance... did you... change your armor?"

Lance lifts his arms, looking down at the red and white of his Paladin armor. "No?"

Next to him, Allura is in the process of removing her blue helmet. She shoves it under one arm and says, "It is in dire need of a wash, however."

Keith squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

"There you are, young Paladins," Coran interrupts, walking into Black's hangar with his hands folded behind his back, "You all did very well on the battlefield today. Especially you, Keith. The team is lucky to have you as a leader."

"I gotta admit," Lance agrees as their irregular footsteps echo down the metal ramp, "I had serious doubts about you being Black Paladin. But you really came through for us, Keith."

Keith narrows his eyes. Before he can place what it is that feels off about Lance's words, Coran says, "Well, I expect you're all very hungry. I've prepared a special celebratory meal to commemorate our victory over Zarkon."

"Aw yes!" Hunk cries, fistpumping, "Coran, you're my hero!"

They all file out of the hangar after the Altean, but Keith lingers in the Black Lion's cockpit a moment longer, letting his eyes trail over the familiar equipment. A strange feeling has settled over him, like a word on the tip of his tongue that he just can't quite remember.

Shrugging it off, he turns to join the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely inspired by the “Wild Hunt” concept of season 6 of Teen Wolf.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong with the Black Lion. Keith finds a piece of paper with words he can’t remember writing.

The soft lights in his room automatically brighten at what counts for dawn on the Castleship. Keith groans, smashing his face into the pillow. 'Mornings' out here in space are nothing more then placeholders - artificial markers of the passage of time, more to keep the sanity of the ship's occupants than anything else. Yet, he still hates them.

He flops one arm out to the side.

It lands on nothing.

He palms the sheets blindly before opening his eyes to frown at the empty space next to him. For a moment, something feels wrong. Missing. His mind draws outlines in the indents of the pillow and the wrinkles of the sheets - the negative space of a shape it expects to be there, but isn't. His room is an almost-complete puzzle, with one piece lost.

He spends minutes trying to place it, but it's ultimately futile. As he continues with the rituals of the morning, the feeling starts to fade.

Until he steps into the Castleship's dining room for breakfast.

He stops in the doorway. The room is filled with the sounds of his new home - the clinking of cutlery, the tinkle of Allura's laugh, the inquisitive beeps of Pidge's ever-present robot companion, Rover. His friends exchange bowls of steaming green and yellow space porridge around the long table while the mice scamper around their feet. But Keith has this feeling like there should be more. An empty sense of expectation clouds over him, inverse deja vu where the scene in front of him should be familiar, but isn't; should feel right, but doesn't.

Keith's eyes flicker over his friends, searching their faces. "Is this everyone?"

The others exchange glances, going quiet.

"Yeah, man," Hunk eventually says, watching him closely, "We're all here."

Keith takes a seat next to Pidge, frowning at the table.

"Everything alright, Number Three?" Coran asks. He pushes a silver ladle into a bowl of green ooze with a squelch, sliding it over to Keith, and he has this look like he's worried, but trying to hide it.

"Yeah." Keith murmurs. "I just have this feeling like... Like maybe I was supposed to meet someone and I forgot?"

Everyone is looking at him. Pidge says, "We're on a flying castle in the middle of space. This" - she gestures around the table - "is pretty much everyone we know."

"I know," Keith mutters, pushing his food goo around in his bowl. The nails of his other hand dig into his palm. "I know."

The rest of the morning passes without incident. They train with the Castle droids, continue their studies on the new planets they've come across and their peoples and cultures, and go over reports from the rebels on changes in Galra activity since Zarkon's demise.

Keith's body goes through the motions, but it's nothing more than a gesture. His mind keeps straying back to the empty bed in his quarters, keeps wondering at this void inside of him, this new emptiness that he can't seem to fill, like a part of him is missing. He should feel proud, victorious, relieved that they've made it this far in the war, grateful to have come through it alive. Instead, he keeps thinking about all those who didn't; pouring their memories into the hollowness inside him.

It's not enough.

"I keep feeling like there's somethin' I need to be doing," he tries telling Hunk as they haul supplies for their next mission to the Lions' hangars. But that doesn't adequately describe the nebulous sense of urgency nagging at the back of his mind. It doesn't give form to the outlines etched like afterimages on the backs of his lids.

When klaxons blare and the emergency lights start flashing, it almost comes as a relief. He runs to his Lion and flings himself in the pilot seat, strategies already running like lines of computer code through his mind.

As he touches Black's controls, a jolt of static electricity arcs up to zap his fingers. He jerks his hand back. "Hey! Ow!"

He frowns up at the ceiling. Black's presence in his mind seems almost petulant, reticent in a way she rarely ever is. Loud, boisterous, curious, mischievous - these are all words Keith associates with her personality. Not so, now. There's a kind of hesitance in their connection that he could almost describe as caution. As fear, if it were possible for the Lions to feel fear. Certainly not for their Paladins.

No time to examine it now - not with the other Lions already shooting out of the Castleship, colored comet tails arcing toward a Galran warship.

"Come on," he says, "it's me, Keith,", then gingerly reaches out again, jabbing the flightstick with one finger. No further shocks surprise him. He grabs onto it with his whole hand, smiling. "Good kitty. Behave."

His stomach turns with g-force as the Lion hurtles out of the ship and into the blackness of space. Instinct takes over. They dodge laser bolts and sentry-piloted fighter jets. He takes out the turret cannons on the battleship, swings around and uses his jawblade to cut through one wing. In the distance, Allura and Lance are blue and red streaks twisting through a fire-tunnel of exploded fighters.

It's loud and intense in the way of all battles, and for the first time since their fight with Zarkon, Keith's mind feels clear.

And then a message pops up on his display. A single line of text accompanied by a picture, a slowly-rotating 3D model spinning just in his line of sight.

Everything stops on an inhale, frozen on the edge of a breath. He knows that symbol. Every corner of it, every curving line. He's traced it a thousand times with weary eyes, too tired to sleep. Its mystery is as much a part of him as his wild temper and impulsiveness. Keith only has two clear memories from his childhood: his father's face on the morning of his death, and that purple mark.

It's the mark on his blade.

The sound of his name being shouted brings him back to the present. He pushes the symbol to the back of his mind and focuses on the battle. They form Voltron and destroy the ship and save the prisoners being held captive on board, and it's like every other mission they've ever flown, in every way except the one that counts.

They return to the Castleship in a whirlwind of chaos and new information and suddenly there are things like _good Galra_ and separatist factions and the Blade of Marmora, and the chess game of diplomacy that follows takes hours. Allura doesn't trust them. Keith's mind says she's right, but in his heart is a seed of doubt shaped like the symbol etched in the hilt of the sword of the one calling himself Antok. The same symbol that's etched into the blade of Keith's knife.

The Castle's lights have dimmed to the dull grey-blue indicating midnight, inching toward the purple hues of pre-dawn when things finally settle down.

It's almost too dark to see, but Keith knows the ship like the back of his hand by now; every turn and nook and corner. He finds his way to the sunken lounge by touch, flopping down tiredly on one of the couches. He's too exhausted to eat, his mind too occupied.

His knife slips out of its sheath with practised ease. He stares at it for a long moment. His hand shakes slightly as he starts to unwrap the crudely-wound brown cloth from the hilt. The purple glow of the mark underneath brightens as it's revealed, the mark of the Blade of Marmora.

As he unwinds the last strip of cloth, a scrap of paper flutters to the ground. Keith blinks and bends to retrieve it, holding it carefully between his thumb and forefinger.

The lights in the lounge brighten with an audible hum as the other Paladins file into the room. Keith shoves the blade under his thigh quickly, clearing his throat.

Pidge is balancing a plate of food goo in one hand and two datapads in the other, a pair of earphones dangling over her shoulder. Hunk follows her with two plates, and a packet of hydrofluid clenched between his teeth. Lance brings up the rear, dragging his feet tiredly.

Keith ignores them, studying the scrap of paper in his hand. Its color has been dulled, and its edges curl up slightly in the way of paper that's been flattened for a long time. Grooves where it had once been folded are etched into it like arteries. It feels like something valuable, a secret once precious to someone, but now long forgotten.

On it are written three words: "_Patience yields focus_".

His brows draw together, the mark of Marmora and everything else forgotten. It's his own handwriting.

"Whatcha got there?" Pidge asks.

"Not sure..." Keith says slowly.

She sets down her plate before coming to peek over his shoulder. "Wow. Is that real paper?"

Keith turns the scrap around, and around again, but discovers nothing else on it. "I guess it is."

"Must've been important for it to be written down on actual paper with an actual pen. What's it say?"

He shows her. She frowns slightly, pushing her glasses up with her forefinger. "I never took you to be one for motivational quotes."

"I'm... not." Keith shakes his head with a slight shrug. Something abstract lurks on the edge of his mind, on the verge of recall. "Maybe someone said it to me once? I don't even remember writing this down."

"I didn't even know Keith could write," Lance quips, flinging himself down and propping his legs up on the table.

"Ha ha." Keith drawls at him, refolding the paper into its grooves and shoving it into his pocket. Input from Lance is the last thing he needs right now, or ever.

He mumbles something about going to bed, and slides the knife into its sheath covertly before hurrying to his room.

He tosses his Paladin armor in a haphazard pile on the floor, and collapses down on his bed in only a t-shirt and pants. Taking out his scrap of paper, he unfolds it carefully.

_Patience yields focus_.

The words ring in his head like a struck bell.

He tries saying it out loud, but it sounds wrong somehow, like he's not the one meant to say it. Like the words belong to someone else, a different voice, softer and gentler than his own.

"What are you?"

He stares at the paper some more, but no answers come to him. Sighing in frustration, he pockets it again, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/comfort_hold) and [tumblr](https://narada-talis.tumblr.com/)~


End file.
